


softly, softly

by maricolous



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kissing, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maricolous/pseuds/maricolous
Summary: After a long day, what could be better than coming home to the person you love?
Relationships: Fjord/Mollymauk Tealeaf
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	softly, softly

**Author's Note:**

> rolls up two years late with a dead ship
> 
> is it the holiday season? no. is it cold? yes. this is my first cr fic but hopefully not my last!
> 
> i used he/him pronouns for molly as that's mostly what's used in canon

Fjord takes his time shedding his winter layers when he gets home, grunting his acknowledgement of Molly’s greeting. On days like this, he misses the permanent summer of Port Damali, the sticky humidity that never quite went away even when the sweltering heat died down for weeks at a time. His face stings in a distant, numb way, a consequence of the wind whipping its way through the streets of Zadash like a funnel. The sting behind his eyes is worse, barely contained irritation and exhaustion warring from a day of hiding them behind a customer service smile. The holidays bring out the best in people, and also the absolute worst.

Molly is on the floor when Fjord finally makes his way into the living room, fingers covered in paint as he works on a set of cards. “There’s food on the table, dear. How was your day?”

“It was fine,” Fjord says, leaning on the doorframe to watch him, smiling at the tiny ponytail sprouting between his horns where he’s tied his hair out of his face and the tattered old shirt that definitely came out of Fjord’s side of the dresser. No one else, save Yasha maybe, can say they’ve ever seen him so dressed down. They’ve been roommates for years, but their new status as partners makes it feel all the more special. “How was yours?”

“Oh, you know,” Molly sighs, finally looking up at him with a grin. “The grind never stops, is that what the kids say?”

“Probably,” Fjord says, sprawling on the floor next to him to look at the cards. He’s hungry, but more for company than food. “Commission?”

“Gift,” Molly corrects, immediately wriggling closer to him, though he doesn’t stop working. “For Jester’s birthday. She keeps trying to steal my deck so I thought I’d make her one of her own.”

“That’s very thoughtful,” Fjord says, pressing a kiss under Molly’s ear.

“Don’t distract me,” Molly scolds, even as he drops his paintbrush aside and plants his stained hands on Fjord’s cheeks to pull him in for a proper kiss.

Kissing Molly does more to melt away the tension of a day spent at the mercy of Winter’s Crest shoppers than any nap or hot shower ever could, Fjord thinks, pulling him closer so they can keep doing it. Molly makes a token attempt to remind Fjord that their dinner will go cold soon, but he follows it up by sticking his tongue in Fjord’s mouth and slinging a leg over Fjord’s hip. They only break apart when Fjord almost rolls into Molly’s palette, dangerously close to getting paint in his hair.

“Dinner first,” Molly chides, grinning widely. “Who knew you would be so incorrigible once I managed to seduce you?”

“I think you were hoping for it,” Fjord says, going in for another kiss and groaning when Molly puts a hand on his face and pushes him away. “Come on.”

“Food first, then we can make out,” Molly declares, getting off the floor and skipping over Fjord’s prone form to their rickety dining table. “I didn’t buy us food just for it to be ignored, you know.”

Fjord wonders how bad it would be if he just laid here and shoved a hand down his pants while Molly talked. He’s never considered himself a particularly horny person but two months of dating Molly has soundly proved that wrong. “I missed you.”

Molly pauses in uncovering several containers to look at him. “Darling, we saw each other this morning.”

“I know,” Fjord says, his flush returning full force. “I know that. Doesn’t make it untrue. Can you just…come back here, please.”

Molly casts one wistful look at the food before he makes his way back over and straddles Fjord’s hips. “What’s gotten into you today?”

“Can’t I just love you so much that I want to make out instead of have dinner?” Fjord asks, sitting up until their noses are touching.

Molly gives him a look that promises A Talk Will Be Had later, but he kisses Fjord again anyway, the heat of him a brand all down Fjord’s front like this. He feels more like a Zadash summer than a Port Damali summer, scorching and dry, but it’s enough to finally melt away the last of the day’s weariness. It’s easy to get lost in Molly, his spicy perfume and the gouache he’s been using and the tickle of a stray curl against Fjord’s cheek and the sharp nip of his teeth against Fjord’s lips and his fingers cupping Fjord’s jaw like a precious thing and a hundred other things that leave Fjord reeling with how much he loves this person.

Dinner is stone cold by the time they get around to it, but Molly twirls him around the room while they wait for it to reheat, crooning a song so raunchy it makes Fjord laugh and blush and exclaim Molly’s full name in horror. No winter day in Port Damali could ever be so comfortingly warm.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this, you can find me on tumblr at naomiherne!


End file.
